


Cold Like Symptoms

by Vitamin_Me



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitamin_Me/pseuds/Vitamin_Me
Summary: Sidney got turned into a vampire by accident, and that’s not even the worst of it.Or,The four (and more!) people who turned out not to be Sidney Crosby’s vampire daddy, and the one person who is.





	Cold Like Symptoms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyeslikeonyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeslikeonyx/gifts).



> eyeslikeonyx, your prompts were epic and angst filled and I gave it my best shot but it took a cracky turn somewhere along the way. I hope you enjoy this regardless.
> 
> 2018/07/02 Edit: Forgot to change the publication date so here it is! Also added fun links in the end notes.

 

It happened, the way supernatural shit like this usually did, the summer after the Sidney won his third Stanley Cup.

* * *

It starts innocently enough, with “cold like symptoms” – the harbinger of death, according to Taylor, as apparently all the most deadly and gruesome diseases start with cold like symptoms. All Sidney had to warn him was a mild fever and some fatigue, nothing that he couldn’t (and most definitely did, at various points in his career) work through.

Until one day he was grabbing a casual post-workout dinner with MacKinnon, as is their usual, except for how the restaurant can’t seem to understand what “medium rare” means and Nate keeps looking at him like he’s about to sprout aliens from his chest.

“Sorry, Nate. I try to not be picky, you know, but that steak was so well done it might as well be a piece of tire. You saw when I cut it open.”

“Well. Yeah. For sure, Sid.” Nate mumbles, shoving food in his mouth like he can physically swallow down his words along with his own piece of dreadfully overcooked steak. He’s been like this all week, and Sidney has finally had _enough_.

“What?” Sidney snaps. “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out already.”

And look, Sidney knows he’s being unfair, but. He’s had a long week. He hasn’t been sleeping well for the last few days, waking up multiple times a night to chug water that completely fail to slake his thirst, followed by even more trips to use the bathroom. He’s also got persistent sunburns on both his cheeks and the back of his neck, despite putting on enough sunscreen to leave unsightly white smears every time he sweats. And now, to top it all off, one of his favourite local restaurants has completely forgotten how to cook steak anything less than well done, and apparently believes they can make it up by putting boatloads of garlic in everything. His clothes are going to smell like burnt garlic bread by the time they leave.

None of that is Nate’s fault, he knows, but his strange bout of shiftiness is the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back and God, it sure does feel good to let out some of his building irritation.

“Look, Sid, you know I think you're great, and…” Nate pauses. He can’t seem to meet Sidney’s eyes now, for all that he was staring just a moment before. “And I know you said it's just a cold, but. Have you considered… maybe. Uh. I think you’re turning into a vampire.”

Sidney blinks.

No fucking way.

“No fucking way, Nate. Are you high? I told you to go easy on that Biosteel stuff.”

Nate starts to look indignant, and Sidney puts his hands up. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you, that wasn’t fair. This cold has me feeling pretty off for the last few days. And with the Biosteel, I’m sure Seggy wouldn’t have recommended it if he didn’t believe it’s great, I’m just saying to ease into it, you know? Don’t switch all of your drinks overnight, give your body some time to get used to it.”

“Ok, I can tell that right there is just your Gatorade sponsorship talking. You can’t fool me.” Sidney snorts, but at least Nate doesn’t look mad anymore. He looks serious, though, and Sidney isn’t sure if that’s any better.

“I know this is going to sound crazy, and nobody ever turns into a vampire without meaning it, but I was there when Barrie joined Lady’s clan, eh? I saw his symptoms. The stuff you’ve been complaining about – the fever, the sunburn, eating meat so raw it’s basically still alive – it’s a dead ringer. This steak?”

Nate stabs the tip of his knife into the meat on his plate and a bit of pink juice seeps out.

“It’s _fine_. It’s tastes exactly the same as it did last week, I swear. I’m just saying, it can’t hurt to get it checked out, right?”

Sidney swallows. Put it that way, it certainly sounds suspicious, and he hasn’t even told Nate about his sudden aversion to garlic or the insatiable thirst.

“You really think I’m turning into a vampire? How sure are you?”

Nate raises an eyebrow. “Sure enough to bet the big tip you’re going to leave for sending that perfectly medium rare steak back three times.”

…shit.

* * *

Being a vampire is not a big deal, anymore. Being a vampire in the NHL is even lesser of a deal, where the protection of vampire rights is built into the foundation of the NHLPA, and every rink, charter flight, and team hotel stocks a mini fridge of blood bags as per league regulations.

Some vampires are born, and some vampires are made. Vampirism confers no advantage on the ice, and, as far as Sidney is concerned, is mostly just a grab bag of annoying side effects, the most prominent being bloodlust induced mood swings. Given that he currently has more penalty minutes in _October_ than he did all of last year, it's a definite handicap.

Because of the intimate nature of the sire bond - established the first time a newly Converted vampire drinks from another vampire- , details of each clan's highly distinct and highly specific Conversion requirements are kept away from the human public, and are often so batshit crazy that it’s near impossible to stumble into.

So. Sidney Crosby is now a vampire, which isn’t a big deal. But Sidney Crosby turned into a vampire without knowing who his sire is, which… well, also isn’t a big deal, but it _is_ the reason there hasn’t been a celebratory press conference announcing his newly befanged status.

For Sidney to have turned into a vampire without a sire…

It’s kind of like getting knocked up after a drunken bender and not knowing who the father is.

It’s _embarrassing,_ and Sidney knows it’s stupid but nevertheless can’t help but feel a bit like a jilted bride.

The new vampire hormones really don’t help.

* * *

 

 

  1. Evgeni Malkin



“Well, that’s all I can think of for now.” Dr. Vyas says, stacking a handful of pamphlets into a neat pile before handing them to Sidney. “Geno? Anything I missed?”

Geno shrugs from where he is sprawled on the chair beside Sidney. “No.”

Dr. Vyas has just spent the last thirty minutes repeating everything Sidney’s doctor in Cole Harbour has already told him. Geno, the only vampire on Pens roster and everyone’s first guess for Sidney’s sire, has been asked to sit in to consult.

“Okay, good. I’ll leave you two to it, then. And Sid…I know the beginning of a new season can get pretty crazy, and I’ve seen how you can get when it comes to hockey, but try to get this sorted sooner rather than later, alright?”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll get right on it.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind him, and Sidney slumps into his chair like his strings have been cut.

“This sucks so much. Do I really have to do this?” Sidney did his best to tone down the whining in front of Dr. Vyas and the rest of the team, but it’s just him and Geno now, and Geno has seen much worse over the years.

“Having sire is important for new vampire, Sidney. Drink from each other, help control bloodlust, balance emotions.” Geno pauses. “The first year post-conversion is a critical period for new vampire development, and the lack of stabilizing presence provided by regular blood exchange with sire could lead to complication down the line.”

Sidney shoots him a glare.

“As if you didn’t learn that phrase like, five minutes ago.”

Geno laughs. “You know he’s right.” His smug smile softens a little. “You already have 10-minute game misconduct for chirping ref, Sid. Also number one in league for penalty minutes. Yesterday, you tell Phil his hair is like Dora Explorer.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” That was not his brightest moment. “Are you absolutely sure it’s not you?”

Geno exhales gently, and Sidney really doesn’t need to see his soft, sympathetic expression again. The same one he had on when Sidney asked him the last five times.

“I'm sure. Drink out of ceremonial cup together, we have. Most happy and most sad at same time, we also have. Spend time together when children, we’re not have. I wish is me also, of course. Everything easier, if you have best sire in NHL.”

Sidney can’t help but chuckle a bit. Despite how much this is all going to suck, he’s at least glad that he’s got Geno in his corner. Sidney takes a deep breath, and shakes out the list of potential candidates they had put together.

“Alright then. Let’s get started.”

 

 

  1. Like, every vampire in the Metropolitan division and on the Team Canada roster



Sidney stares down at the muted “call ended” screen of his phone in disbelief.

“He’s fucking with me, right? He’s… is that true? Chara’s clan conversion requires three months of veganism?”

Geno tilts his head back and forth in a “maybe so, maybe not” motion.

“I’m not close to Bruins vampires. If Bergy say, then I think it’s true.”

“That’s… that’s just, that’s just nonsense.” Sidney cannot believe this. How can he be expected to work with stuff like this? “Veganism probably didn’t even exist when his clan was formed. How am I supposed to figure out who my sire is when people just, just make up whatever the hell they want?”

“Is not made up, is _magic_.” Geno sighs. He doesn’t look offended, though. “Magic is not follow rules like hockey game, same thing every time. You know this.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sidney scrubs his palm over his face. He’s so tired. And cranky. Over the past six weeks, they’ve reached out to every vampire contact they have on just about every team in the eastern conference, and so far there’s not even the slightest hint of a lead.

Geno’s expression suddenly turns mischievous.

“Sometimes magic is like prank, too. Like, to join Jagr clan, have to have mullet.”

“Oh my God, no!” Sidney couldn’t stop his shocked giggle if he tried. “You’re lying. Really?”

“Grow one, find out.”

Sidney dissolves into another bout of giggles, and by the time he looks up again Geno’s still grinning at him. His fangs are still extended from their snack earlier, and Sidney wonders how it will feel to have Geno drink from him – if he will be rough like he is on the ice or gentle like he is with puppies, if he’ll prefer the standard neck artery or the more sensual groin –

Sidney firmly shakes himself out of it. There is no use wondering, because drinking from other vampires is an extremely intimate act, and fantasizing about doing so with someone who is not your sire is beyond inappropriate.

“I think we’ve done enough for today, eh? Let’s brainstorm some more names and pick it up again after the game tomorrow?”

Geno nods, and starts to gather the trash from the coffee table.

“You know, we don’t talk to many vampires on west coast, only Radulov and McDavid. Maybe you know someone? Someone who is vampire for long time in western conference, know pacific clans?”

Sidney hums. He knows just the person to ask.

 

 

  1. Anze Kopitar



Tracking down Anze Kopitar turned out to be significantly more difficult than Sidney anticipated. The Pens only play the Kings twice a year, and the Kings’ captain was predictably in no mood to socialize after a 3-1 loss, with Horny slamming home the first goal less than a minute into the game.

Luckily, there is the All-Star Game.

Sidney arrives at the All-Star Game with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he will openly admit that both Tanger and him haven’t played their best this year. If anyone deserved to be selected from the Pens, it ought to have been Phil. While Tanger at least had the plausible benefit of a lack of other top performing, right-handed defencemen in the Metropolitan division, Sidney had Geno sitting right here with more points in less games, and is under no illusion that the only reason he was selected is because of his vampire-related newsworthiness.

On the other hand, worrying about the All Star Game selection is exactly the kind of high stress, low productivity exercise that is both not worth his time and above his pay grade, so Sidney tries not to think about it too hard. Plus, it really is nice to be able to catch up with Flower and meet some of the younger guys, and if being in Tampa affords him the opportunity to corner Kopitar in a friendly setting, all the better.

Sidney finds him circling the food tables with his teammate Drew Doughty shortly after arrival. It’s not the most private setting, especially considering the NHL intern surreptitiously snapping away two feet behind them, but Sidney doesn’t know when he’ll be given the opportunity again.

“Hey, Croz! Good to see you.” Kopitar smiles, holding his hand out for a firm shake. Sidney replies in kind, mildly thrown off by how warm Kopitar’s hand felt in his. Geno’s hand is always pleasantly warm, though, so perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“How’s the new, uh,” here he pauses, and Doughty snorts helpfully while Kopitar looks around with exactly zero subtlety, “ _condition_ treating you?”

Sidney resists the urge to facepalm. He can actually see the intern perk up at this sight of this interaction and can only hope the kid’s not standing close enough to hear what they’re saying. Whatever, it at least gives him a good segue into this topic.

“As well as can be expected, at this point.” It’s no secret that Sidney’s performance has been more… _erratic_ , than is his usual, and Kopitar nods sympathetically. “About that, actually, I was hoping to ask you some questions?”

Both Kopitar and Doughty look confused. “Ask me? About vampirism?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve been seeing a specialist, and she’s been great, but she’s not very familiar with the Conversion requirements of the west coast clans. Geno suggested I talk to someone who is closer to the current members, you know, preferably someone who’s a born vamp and has been around for a while.”

Kopitar still looks confused, but Doughty’s expression is quickly transitioning to what could only be described as “glee”. That probably should’ve been a warning sign, Sidney will later reflect with much regret.

“Ok…? You want me to ask around my team?”

Sidney is getting a little annoyed now. Why is Kopitar playing dumb like this? Sidney’s only asking for some high-level guidance.

“Uh, no, I mean, since I already have you here, I thought I could just ask you?”

Kopitar is looking increasingly skeptical, and as much as Sidney didn’t want to discuss this in front of Doughty, he’s left with no choice than to just come out with it. “Look, I didn’t want to say this here but… I’m not sure who my sire is.” Like ripping off a band-aid, Sidney reminds himself. “So, I was hoping that you could help me. With uh, figuring out who my sire is. Since you know what the Conversion requirements are, I’m hoping you can help me narrow down what I have and haven’t done in the past year or so, and go from there.”

“And you think I would know about west coast vampire Conversion requirements because I am one of them?”

… obviously?

“Uh, yes?”   

Kopitar looks like he really wants to roll his eyes, which is in direct contrast to Doughty who looks like Christmas just came early. Sidney doesn’t understand what happened.

“Croz. I can’t help you. Because I’m not a vampire.”

… he’s _not??_

“You’re… not?”

Now Kopitar is starting to look offended. Great.

“You’re not one of those guys who think all Eastern Europeans are vampires, are you?”

“No, of course not! But you…” Sidney wisely snaps his jaw shut before the words _look like you’ve been dead inside for millenia_ makes its way out into the world. Judging by Kopitar’s expression though, he heard it loud and clear anyway.

“No, I’m not. Sorry I can’t help you. I’ll see you on the ice, Crosby.”

Sidney is left standing awkwardly in the spot while Kopitar and Doughty (who keeps looking back like he couldn’t believe that _actually happened_ ) make their leave.

God. Sidney needs a nap.

***

Geno almost laughs himself sick when Sidney retells the story later, and Sidney would be upset except he finds himself giggling along helplessly. It _is_ pretty funny, in hindsight. It’s also the first time he’s been able to see the humour in the situation since this whole debacle started, and he’ll take whatever bit of emotional maturity he can get, these days.

 

 

  1. Sergei Gonchar



“Hello Sidney. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sidney raises his head from the conference table and blinks blearily. Gonch only breaks out the old fashioned, textbook-perfect English when he’s teasing, and sure enough the man’s got a quiet little smile on his face.

“Is it finally my turn? Surely you of all people should know better than to think all Russians are vampires?”

Sidney means to say something light, a little bit of chirping before getting down to the awkward business of asking if Gonch, of all people, has any idea who his vampire sire could be. He has no real expectation that Gonch would, really, but desperate times, desperate measures, and all that. But as Sidney looks at his bemused but infinitely patient expression, suddenly it’s all he can do not to burst into exhausted tears.

Gonch, to his credit, looks only mildly alarmed.

“I’m so sorry.” Sidney fights not to sniffle. He’s not sure why he even bothers, given that Gonch, like Geno, has also seen much worse over the years. “I swear I didn’t ask you to meet me just to cry on you.”

“It’s alright, Sidney. Zhenya tells me you are going through difficult process. It is ok to be frustrated, sometimes.”

“Thanks, Gonch.” Sidney exhales, although it comes out as more of a wet sob. “God. Don’t tell G this, but I miss having you as my A.”

And he means it, too. Sidney’s early years as captain had its fair share of turmoil and he has since become much more comfortable in his own skin, but turning 30 this past year came with the startling realization that he is now one of the old guys on the team, and he misses the steady confidence of having veterans to look up to. There were times in those early years where - flanked by his two Russian Alternates, whose personalities were like night and day but were both loyal to a fault – Sidney had felt invincible.

Gonch’s laugh is warm and indulgent. “It will be our secret. Now, I don’t have any insights into what you are looking for, but I will ask around, see if I can find a few more contacts for you.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” Sidney tries on a smile, and hopes it comes across at genuine if still a bit wobbly. “God, I just want to get this over with. Conversion is supposed to be this big happy thing, you know, not like some Finding Nemo adventure where my best case scenario is having to fill my closest relationship with a complete stranger. I wish Geno would have just pretended it was him, from the beginning.”

And that’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? Everyone he was close to, everyone he could actually tolerate having a sire bond with, had already been contacted and ruled out. Anyone he does find now is bound to be someone he barely knows, and surely it’s better to just end up alone? Vampires have survived without sires before, even if some of them did go a bit crazy in the end.

Gonch is silent long enough for Sidney to start feeling squirmy.

“Um, I didn’t mean that. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I know being Converted is a great honour, I just…”

 “No, I think I understand.” Gonch’s gaze is somehow both tranquil and piercing at the same time. Sidney privately thinks he would make a very successful therapist, if he ever gets bored of this hockey thing. “You did not wish to become a vampire. But if you are to be one, you want to be his.”

“Yeah.” Sidney whispers. “I guess I do.”

 

 

+1. Evgeni Malkin 

It’s one thing to know that your teammate has a spare key, Sidney thinks, and another altogether to drag yourself home after _exiting the fucking playoffs_ , only to find him lurking in the dark like a creepy parent trying to catch their teenage child staying out past curfew.

“Jesus, G, you almost gave me a heart attack!” Sidney yelps from where he’d thrown himself against his kitchen island, when Geno – lurking like aforementioned parent – turned the lights on without warning.

“Sorry. Not mean to scare.” Geno says. He doesn’t sound sorry. He does, however, look extremely nervous and shifty. And why does he still have his outdoor shoes on?

“It’s almost 2am, G. What couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Did something happen?”

“No. Yes. No, nothing bad. But… have to talk to you, can’t wait.”

“What is it? You’re killing me here.”

Geno seems to still himself, and then walks – no, marches – over to where Sidney is still standing by the island.

“Gonch come over, have long talk with me.” Geno pauses. “He remind me that becoming vampire, it’s not all about rituals or drinking blood. It’s about family. Conversion rituals are complicated, maybe strange sometimes, because if we turn you, you join us forever, and we not let some random stranger be part of our family.”  

Sidney nods. It’s nothing he wasn’t aware of before, although putting it into words like that just brings home the indignity of his situation. There’s something hopelessly tragic about being unclaimed by one’s family, isn’t there?

“He’s also send me your interviews. You know I think is boring, don’t read, but he send me videos, articles. Like this.”

Geno fumbles his phone out and pulls up what appears to be a screenshot of an old SportsNet article, dating way back to 2013. In the middle, highlighted in bright yellow, reads:

_Crosby has noticed the changes in his teammate as well. “It feels like we grew up together here,” Crosby says shortly after the 6–5 loss, gazing at the empty stall with Malkin’s name and number etched in teak._

Sidney’s heart stops, skips, and then starts up again beating double time. He thinks he knows where this is going, and he desperately, desperately hopes he’s right. A faint thread of hope shivers alive in his chest past the exhaustion, and he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to handle being wrong about this, right now.

“G,” Sidney swallows around his suddenly dry throat. “What are you saying? I – is this about the childhood requirement?” Oh God, please let it be about the Malkin clan's childhood requirement. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Gonch, he talk to papa and they think maybe vampire magic bend rules, little bit. Maybe because I want, and you want, then it’s happen, even if it not fit requirements by every word.”  

“Really? I… is that a thing? You really think… you think that’s enough?” _Am I really yours?_ Sidney doesn’t dare ask. He doesn’t know where it leaves them, if the answer is no.

“Maybe is enough, if you feel like that. Maybe not. But Sid.” Geno reaches out suddenly, looking both pleading and fierce. His hands are shaking where they’re grasping Sidney’s shoulders, and Sidney swears can feel his own heart pulsing in his stomach.

“Sid, maybe I am your sire. Maybe it’s Giroux.” Sidney almost recoils physically, but Geno yanks him back with the iron grip on his shoulder. “But that’s not point, ok? It’s not matter. Point is, I _want_ to be your sire. I want… I want you be part of my family. So I talk to mama, and she say, Zhenya, you most stupid, why you ever let some other guy be Sidney’s sire? If I listen to you complain about Sidney drink from some other guy every day, I go back to Russia, never come back.”

Sidney blinks. Geno seems to realize he’s gone off on a tangent, and visibly shakes himself out of it.

“So I’m going to ask you, Sidney. Do you want? Do you want me to be your sire?”

“I – "

 _Yes._ Sidney thinks, _that’s all I’ve wanted since the very beginning_. But the words get stuck in throat, and Sidney wonders distantly if there is such a thing as being unable to reach for something right in front of you because you want it too much.

Geno’s eyes flicker lightning-quick between Sidney’s, as if he can will Sidney to respond by the force of his gaze alone. When that doesn’t work, he uses his grip to actually shake Sidney a little, and Sidney finally snaps out of it.

“I – _YES._ Yes, of course I do, who did you think I would – why would you even –" Geno is starting to grin, and Sidney is having a hard time talking around the hysterical laughter bubbling up from his chest. “YES, yes I want you to be my sire, I – " 

“Good. Good, is right answer.” And Geno’s laughing too, looking infinitely relieved as he finally lets go of Sidney’s shoulders.

They smile dopily at each other for a good minute like that, before Sidney abruptly realizes they’re just staring.

“Wait, what happens now? Do I have to sign like, adoption papers or something?”

Geno chuckles, warm and low, and the sound pools low in Sidney’s stomach. He’s allowed to enjoy that, now.

“No, no adoption papers. Only…”

And finally, finally, Geno presses his mouth to Sidney’s, and Sidney can’t help the little noise he makes as he melts into the kiss. Geno’s arms circle his waist to pull him close, and Sidney’s own hands come up to cup his jaw. For a long minute, it’s the sweetest kiss Sidney’s ever had, until they both open their mouths at the same time and Geno nicks his lip on one of Sidney’s fangs that had dropped without his permission.

The second his blood hits Sidney’s tongue, the kiss goes from zero to sixty in no time at all, and Sidney finds himself pressed against his fridge door with a leg wrapped around Geno’s waist, devouring each other like their lives depended on it. Sidney is pretty sure he would have let Geno fuck him right up against the fridge, just like that, if Geno hadn’t suddenly wrenched his delicious mouth away and taken a step back.   

“Wow. What was that?” Sidney’s actually panting, and he’d be embarrassed if Geno didn’t look equally disheveled from just that bit of kissing. There’s a tiny drop of blood clinging to his fat bottom lip where Sidney got a little overenthusiastic. It’s a good look on him.  

“I don’t know. I’m never have sire bond before. We find out, together.” Geno grins again, the huge, beaming one he always gives Sidney at the start of every season, like he can’t wait for them to experience this new beginning together, and Sidney…

Sidney grins back, and drops his fangs.

**Author's Note:**

>  yo come @ me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vitamin-metoo)  
>  
> 
>   1. You think I made up Sid chirping refs, 10-min game misconduct, leading league in penalty minutes, accruing more in October than he did all previous season? [Non.](https://www.cbc.ca/sports/hockey/nhl/sidney-crosby-argues-10-minute-misconduct-1.4366353)
> 

>   1. [Sid talking to Kopitar and Doughty at the 2018 ASG](https://vitamin-metoo.tumblr.com/post/175494012870/photo-of-interest-for-my-exchange-fic). Sid’s earnest expression, and Kopitar’s I-won’t-repeat-it-look, both sell this so well for me.
> 

>   1. “It feels like we grew up together here”. What S/G shipping hasn’t read that phrase? Here’s the [full article](https://www.sportsnet.ca/magazine/evgeni-malkin-revealing-the-nhls-most-mysterious-superster/) for the ultimate punch-in-gut experience.
> 



End file.
